Birdz: Legacy | 4ZZZ Brisbane 102.1FM

- The last couple of years have had set-backs aplenty, for everyone. It must really have been a bit infuriating for Birdz though, to have his biggest ever hit Bagi-la-m Bargan, just as the nation headed into lockdown. A proud Butchulla man, Nathan Bird is no stranger to adversity, the largest part of his back catalogue is a record of the struggles he, his family, his people have faced, to even be here today. Many of the rest of us may have lost our collective **** in the face of a pandemic, but Birdz, like he was always expecting more knocks, has kept right at it, honing his game. Over the ‘lost’ years he’s built his second full-length and a clear-eyed vision that is hardly bounded by the walls of lockdown. Far from being bummed, Birdz has turned his gaze on the future and a vision of just what his life and work will mean to those walking in his footsteps. This is his Legacy.

A lot of his first album and the two EPs Birdz has released since 2013 have been devoted to the story of how he got here, what being a black man in white Australia has meant, how he became who he is. Now, with a child of his own, he has a new perspective, taking stock of what his life, his choices will mean for his family, into the future. Legacy is pretty focused in that regard, I don’t think there’s a track amongst the nine here which doesn’t ask that question: what will I be passing on? Even for a conscious hip hop record it’s quite serious and single-minded.

There’s always been an urgency in Birdz’ music, a dialectical energy between the righteous fury at grotesque injustice and the melancholy soulfulness of its personal cost. You could hear that in bucketloads on a song like Black Child from his last EP, Place Of Dreams. The energetic friction between the two forces produced sparks and the occasional lightning bolt of hope, as Birdz lunged for a better future. The anger is still here in Legacy, how could it not be? A cut like Aussie Aussie sounds like it might be this record’s answer to On The Run, with its brutal assessment of how far progressive politics have moved things when “Black lives matter only when they get caught”. Sounding even a bit bored to still be saying it, Birdz lays it out: “We just want our ****ing land back / We still live and they can’t stand that / Yeah they kill you if you’re black, Jack / Aussie Aussie Aussie we call that”.

More often, however, the anger is replaced by the search for hope, even if it’s one that’s tempered by the knowledge of just how difficult that road is. So you end up with songs like Fly, featuring a surging vocal from Ngaiire where she bellows what might be a mantra for the record: “My heart full of pain and glory!” In interview with MTV, Birdz described how deeply uplifting this moment is for him, even when it’s cut with sorrow: “I really wanted to capture, in the most basic way I can say it, how dope it is to be Black.” That’s the new urgency here, an audacious hope, a desperate desire to hold on to everything that’s been achieved: “Coz what we hold is treasure and gold / All we know is, can never let it go!”

Teaming up again with Trials on production duties produces another highly diverse collection of sounds. From trap to boom bap, latin to reggaeton, pop and electronica. At this point, I’ve kind of come to expect it from Birdz and Co., like the bare minimum they can deliver is a record dancing around all over the place, always giving you something new, oh and a boat load of guest-stars too, please; sorry, now you always have to do it! If there’s a consistent stylistic development on Legacy, it’s a tendency towards the grandiose. Piano lines and cellos, even operatic vocal hits, it’s the gilt-edging for a statement record. It’s to the credit of those involved that it doesn’t become pompous, doesn’t overdo it. Instead, everything feels like it’s been worked into the texture of the music, without overwhelming the message.

There’s few bigger statements on Legacy than that original single, Bagi-la-m Bargan. Inspirational as all-get-out, with all the grandiosity of the Hilltops in full flight and a good deal more credibility than they’ve managed in recent years. Birdz’ cousin Fred Leone roars in language and Birdz himself flies into it: “Fire in my eyes, but we ain't runnin'”. It’s an inspiring and impassioned gift from a father to his child and one which struck a chord with a good number of people out there. Jostling through the sorrow and anger there’s a lot more of that to come here, for those willing to embrace it. At a time like this I wonder how much space Australia has in its heart for courage, how much empathy for others and what willingness there is to buy into a bigger understanding of the world. In a message to those closest to him Birdz has done his part, speaking to a much wider audience with honesty, power and, finally, hope.

- Chris Cobcroft.